


When A Candle Burns

by BrainlessGenius



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Has Feelings, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Break, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, burn-outs, happy birthday logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius
Summary: College!AU where Janus, Roman, Patton, Remus, and Virgil decide to wait out in Logan and Janus’ dorm, in total darkness, to surprise Logan on his birthday. When Logan arrived, obviously not his usual self, it seemed like they were in for a whole other surprise.As part of the Logang's Logan's Birthday Lowdown, a birthday gift for our one and only Crofters-loving, rap-enthusiast, nerd <3
Relationships: Anxiety & Creativity & Dark Creativity & Deceit & Logic & Morality (Sanders Sides)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120





	When A Candle Burns

**Author's Note:**

> It’s November 3rd!! That means it’s election day!! Which also means it’s our favorite nerd’s birthday!!!! To celebrate his special day, y’all should vote. Really. I’m not American, but please go vote if you’re eligible. Okay, okay so to actually celebrate his birthday, the Logangst Server decided to get together and put up artworks, fics, and memes for our one and only, Crofters-loving, logical facet. 
> 
> Aaaaaaand THIS is our contribution! I collabed with the lovely @ameliesanderssidesblog and @illogicalthinking on Tumblr! Keep track of the tag #LogangBirthdayLowdown on Tumblr to find all the wonderful masterpieces by other members of the Logang. Keep your eyes peeled and watch out for updates 👀.
> 
> Once again, Happy Birthday to Logan Sanders, and we love you dearly. Enjoy folks!!

“Scooch over, Pat– yeah, no, just a tad bit more, pops– oh my god do you _want_ me to fall off?!”

“Virge, you told me not to move around too much!–”

“Are you two quite done arranging yourselves yet ‘cause the creaking is unbearable– ROMAN! YOU ALMOST HIT THE CUPCAKE, I–”

“Well, _pardon me_ , Janus, if I can’t see a damned thing in this hell-forsaken dorm and _excuse me_ for having no choice but to be squished against your whiny, bitch-ass self–OW! Remus what the–”

“You and your dramatic jazz hands have hit me in the damned eye _twice_ so hell yeah you deserved that shit. What the fuck is even taking him so long? For all I know the nerd could be out there getting pegged by some hot jock in the bleachers and we’ll be crammed in here all night.”

It was currently 8:14 pm, as Janus read off of his phone. The twins pressed flush against either side of him groaned and looked away, squinting from the harshness of the artificial light. As college students in the same university, they were all accustomed to the poky nature of the dorms. Each one was only meant for two people, after all. The rickety bunk beds, minimal ventilation, dim lights, bland color and design choices were what they’ve come to call as “home.”

But having to cram 5 people in a single bunk bed, in total darkness, with barely any air, while trying to protect the store-bought cupcake in Janus’ palm and the unlit candle in Virgil’s fingers as they waited for their friend was a completely different experience.

“V, I _know_ you’re playing with the candle up there. We don’t have a replacement. Stop it.” Janus shifted a bit in his place, bumping into both Roman’s knee and Remus’s shoulder in the process.

“Ha, ha. How sure are you that Remus hasn’t even eaten half of the cupcake yet, Jan?” More creaking was heard as Patton tried to pry the blue-striped candle from Virgil, who was nervously twirling it ‘round his digits.

Janus muttered to himself as he fumbled for his phone yet again, switching on the flashlight to inspect the cupcake. Unfortunately, he was instead met with Remus’s face dangerously close to the confectionery, and the shock was enough to send the phone flying to Roman’s cheek and Jan’s head hitting the ceiling of the bottom bunk.

Though no one could see it in the dark, the sound was enough to send Virgil stifling a chortle and Patton’s eyes to go wide in concern.

“Oh my goodness, whoever that was, are you okay?”

“Pfft– was that… was that _Janu_ –”

“N-no. That was Remus, what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I totally hiss when I get injured, _sure_ , Jan.”

At least the cupcake was alright. 

Restlessness began to shower over the group as they constantly shifted in their places, but not without the small inkling of worry clouding over their heads. If Janus knew anything about his roommate, it’s that he was never out past eight. In fact, Logan’s schedule was so consistent that he practically memorized it by now. What even was the point of getting everyone together before seven, when Lo returned from the library every night, if he wasn’t going to stick to it?

It was already 8:30.

“Relax, Janus. It’s his birthday, cut him some slack. Maybe he’s out in a bar or some shit, I don’t know.”

That was the thing, though. He’d been his roommate for three years, and Logan never broke away from his schedule. Not even on special occasions, and not even on his birthday. He’s heard Logan tell him about how “celebrations are only unnecessary capitalistic constructs” one too many times before. Logan wasn’t necessarily wrong; but they realized that they’ve never actually _done_ something for the astronomy student before. It was unfair to him, as Patton put it. It took weeks of planning, arguing, and debating between a grand blowout or a simple gathering. Obviously, the latter won; and rightly so. Logan never did favor the types of celebrations Roman enjoyed.

Their light bickering dragged on until it was a quarter ‘till nine. Virgil was _this_ close to calling the police had Patton not come to his senses and quickly snatched the phone from his hand. They waited a few more minutes, then another, then a couple more. Just as Virgil was ready to wrestle Pat for the phone, they heard the door click. 

They settled back into their positions as quickly as Logan swung the door open. They readied themselves to yell the second Logan opened the lights to the room.

Only he didn’t. 

They stayed silent as Logan slammed the door closed behind him, completely ignoring the light switch just beside it and immediately dropping his stuff onto the desk as he plopped down onto the chair. They inferred as much from the slight boom that hit the table and the sudden, harsh scrape of wood on cement. Had Logan just opened the door a fraction wider or kept it ajar a second longer, the hallway lights might have been enough to reveal their presence; yet Logan gave no indication of recognition.

Frankly, they didn’t know what to do next.

Remus, for one, wanted to jump out right now. He thought it’d make for a good scare and well, what was the point of planning a surprise if there wasn’t a bit of shock factor to it? He started to slowly shuffle forward, allowing his feet to dangle, but Janus stopped him by the arm before he could let it touch the ground.

They could hear breathing. _Heavy_ breathing. It was quick, ragged, and harsh, like when Virgil drowned in anxiety-ridden thoughts or when Patton got lost in his emotions. Yet it was also intense, deep, and furious, like when Roman hits a creative block or when Remus has had the last straw. It could be anyone _but_ Logan, yet a quick, silent look around the others confirmed it was.

Then there was a scream. It came out in a quick burst of loud, hoarse energy accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of something being dragged across a surface and crashing into the ground in a series of _clangs_ and _thuds_. 

They saw nothing in the pitch-black darkness of the room, but they heard every single thing. They could only listen in escalating worry and a pinch of pity as Logan further yelled his lungs dry. They built images in their head as their friend unknowingly fueled them with the sounds of scraping chairs, beat-up desks, flying books, crashing pens, paper tears, and scratchy breaths. 

No one dared to move, for fear of setting off the slightest squeak in the unstable bed. No one dared to speak for fear of bursting the very fragile bubble that stood between them and Logan. 

Something must have been tossed at the laptop, as its screen came to life on the desk standing a few feet away from the bed. They stopped the gasps pushing against their lips as the now lit-up screen cast a film of light around Logan’s silhouette, with even a bit of the shine passing through the thin fabric of the persona’s loose clothing. Janus didn’t know how he never noticed the frailness of his arms, or how his clothes didn’t exactly fit right when he distinctly remembered how it used to. Now, as they stared at the vague outline of his form standing with his back to them, hunched over his desk, arms stiff and shaking as he pressed his palms on the smooth mahogany, Logan looked so… _small_.

Everyone held their breaths while Logan’s elbows shook before he swiftly sat back down onto the chair with a long huff. They considered it a miracle that Logan still hadn’t noticed them even with the laptop’s screen shedding a bit of light into the room. Then again, perhaps the fact was worrying more than it was astonishing. They could but glance at each other, exchanging silent looks that partly communicated all that each wanted to say. If Virgil exhaled just a bit quicker, Logan might have felt his breath from a distance. If Patton so much as shifted his weight the sound would’ve startled him. If Roman stretched out his arm enough, he could probably already touch him. Just a bit more movement from Remus and his feet would already brush the same ground Logan was on. If Janus let out even the smallest hum it’d be enough to catch Logan’s attention and get him to turn around.

The depressing image in front of them got them wishing for freedom from this unconventional cell, but fear and uncertainty held them captive.

Then everything turned silent. All forms of sound from Logan ceased to exist, and the silence that took its place crept up on them and only further tightened their chains. It should be hilarious– how they all thought to stay eerily still as their friend lashed out at his own belongings for heaven knows what reason without even talking about it. It should make for a good story– about how a surprise turned into a game of hide and seek wherein they didn’t want to be found. 

But it wasn’t funny, and they wanted to both get out of there to give Logan his space and to hug him on the spot. Before the silence could play with their minds any more, however, they heard a single sound.

A sob.

The laptop’s screen was dimming, but they could still make out how Logan moved from being seated upright to having his head buried in his arms on the desk, slightly muffling the rest of his cries. It hurt to listen to him, and every whimper felt like a tear being made in the threads of their hearts. Every single one rang through their ears and shook them to their core. 

With his own frame trembling from pure concern and a powerful urge to scoop Logan into his arms then and there, Janus had had enough. He moved his legs ever-so-slowly, wincing as pins and needles took over his lower body and trying his best not to make a sound. He breathed a slow sigh of relief as his feet touched the ground, and Remus followed suit not shortly after; careful not to step on any of the stray objects definitively littering the floor. By the time Janus and Remus were fully standing up, Roman had begun to quietly do the same. Once upright, he spared a glance towards the other two on top and made a gesture for them to come down; a gesture Patton and Virgil gawked at.

Noise was inevitable the second Virgil moved his foot from where he was seated cross-legged, and he stifled a hiss as the numbness faded too quickly from his leg. The trio snapped their heads to check whether Logan took notice, but he remained in the same position, and his cries continued to terrorize the entire room.

Again, not a good sign.

Creaks, squeaks, and scrapes were heard the entire time the pair travelled down, but Logan gave no sign of acknowledgement, or recognition, or even just of hearing. Minutes ago they would have given anything for Logan to not note their presence; now, they’d give anything for their friend to just crash into their embrace.

They felt pretty much like sardines standing together in a humid can, and everyone wordlessly stared at Janus; a silent plea for him to initiate something. What exactly, they weren’t sure yet. Roman had even carefully taken the cupcake from Janus– essentially freeing him to do what he saw fit. So, Janus took Logan’s heartbreaking cries, and used it as fuel to take the first tentative step forward and shakily place his hand on the astronomy student’s back.

The broken look in Logan’s eyes framed by the daunting blue of the laptop’s glow as he jolted upward to meet their faces would haunt them forever.

~~~

Logan should have brought a coat. It was mere stupidity on his part, he admitted. It was the beginning of November and all the weather reporters constantly reminded their viewers to _bundle up, wear a coat_ , and _keep warm_. Yet here he was, in a simple t-shirt and jeans, standing out in a small crowd of people in scarves, jackets, and sweaters. The chill was beginning to seep through the dryness of his skin and into his weary bones as he stood slightly shivering in front of the library. 

He attempted to glimpse at his wristwatch to check for the time, but his arms were currently preoccupied with his stack of books, notebooks, stationery, and other supplies. His bag just had to have picked the worst time to break off its zipper _and_ its strap. Great. He still managed to steal a glance at the watch. 

8:43 pm.

He was _immensely_ off schedule. He should’ve been back at the dorm with his roommate forty-three minutes ago, as he did every night. The realization that he has never, ever strayed from his routine before was enough to put a bit of speed to his walk as he crossed the biting cold of the campus. Time always seemed to run too fast, nowadays. There was always something to do, to think about, to worry about, and Logan rarely got any moments of passiveness anymore. It deeply frustrated him– how he’d take one look at the time, do what feels like the slightest bit of work, then glance again to find out that hours have passed. 

That being said, he really should have paid attention to the library clock more. His dormitory wasn’t situated near the library, unfortunately; so he found himself drawing and releasing deep breaths as he tried to pick up pace and shake out the chill under his skin. Logan felt alien in his current environment. Everything around him seemed so calm and serene as the leaves swayed along the cool wind and the bright moonlight cast a breathtaking shadow over the buildings, trees, grass, and people. Logan, on the other hand, was a brewing storm. You wouldn’t see even the tail of the cyclone from afar, but inside– _inside_ , the eye walls of the storm raged on. 

Every step he took closer to his dorm, the internal typhoon grew.

_A half-done essay._

_Problem sets in advanced physics._

_Four exams in three days._

_Research data for interpretation._

At this point he wasn’t sure if the shudder in his last breath and the trembling of his long fingers tight around his belongings were still due to the cold.

_The constellation map needs to be finished._

_Bring the laundry to the laundromat._

_Three more chapters on astronomical theories._

_Two tutoring sessions tomorrow. You need the pay._

He could eye their door now, but the unit number plastered on the front started to blur as his temples throbbed more and more by the minute.

He realized why the load he was carrying was so heavy, and Logan cursed loud into the emptiness of the campus as he remembered how he should’ve renewed this one overdue book in the library. That’s another cut in his budget. The bulk of things he had yet to do told him he was in for quite the night. He was almost certain it was caffeine running through his veins now and not blood. 

Logan finally arrived at the complex with only the stairs left to traverse. The building’s walls offered a bit of warmth, but the wind continued to mock him, taunting him with whispers of cold and pressure. After just a flight of steps his phone rang, and the strong vibration of the gadget in his pocket jolted him to the point of dropping everything in his arms. He ran his fingers through his hair in one rough, swift motion, strongly tugging at the strands before his hands came to rub at his face under the glasses with an annoyed groan. Logan checked to see who it was, and without missing a beat he shut off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket with a strong huff. 

He quickly set to work picking up the clutter from the steps, unsteady fingers fumbling about for everything while the thrum of the veins in his skull and the roar of the acid in his stomach did nothing to help his situation. He took longer than he should arranging his belongings. _Fuck_ , how much time had he wasted just by that? 

By the time he was in front of the door, it was all too loud. He thought of the dead corridor as a scam, ‘cause to him everything was swirling around him, as if he was stuck in the middle of a tornado. He felt like his entire form was being swept up by the figurative gusts of harrowing wind as he unsteadily fumbled for the doorknob. He slammed the door shut behind him once inside, taking note of the dead lights that indicated his roommate was probably not around. He’d have to add talking to Janus about locking the door to his never-ending to-do list. He did not bother turning on the lights before he all but dropped his stuff on the table. He had no intention of making his head ache any worse than it already was.

Logan’s fists shook where they lay rested on the desk, and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to reorganize the chaos that was his thoughts. The imagery of that drasted tornado popped up in his head again, and honestly, he couldn’t blame his imagination for thinking up a metaphor so vivid. The large, imaginary blocks of words spelling out _deadlines, exams, chores, laundry, family, money, work, college, food, time_ , and a slew of other responsibilities twirled around the innards of the twister and knocked Logan down so forcefully that he struggled to get back up.

The winds blew stronger, they howled louder, and the space around him shrunk and shrunk, until the metaphorical towers of obligation crashed on Logan’s feeble form. 

He screamed.

He took all the noise in his cranium and forced it through his throat and past his mouth, as if the task would somehow empty his overfilled head. His hands started to move on their own as Logan let them swipe through the arrangement of things on his desk, relishing in the crashing sounds of their forced landing as the volume muted out his own mind. Logan felt at war with himself as he tore through scratch papers and launched books and pens at the wall. When he felt the slightest pinprick of tears beg passage past his lids, Logan only groaned in denial. He fought off the tears by demolishing anything he could lay his hands on. Thank heavens for the anonymity of the pitch-black room. He wanted no sight of the mess he was making; no reminder of the mess that was his life.

Rulers, scissors, paste, tape, and a smattering of writing utensils littered the floor. Had Logan not have been wearing shoes he was certain he would’ve wounded his feet on a couple of things by now. With a desperate shout, Logan yet again blindly threw a small, silver sharpener which landed hard on his open laptop; the impact enough to switch it on. A stray thought regarding something about broken gadgets and extra payments and so much wasted time grazed his consciousness again. He would’ve fought off the taunts once more, with his breaths heaving wildly in his chest and hands ready to forcefully punch any surface it would land on; but the cool gleam of the laptop shone on the supplies on the floor, and the prospect of him having almost damaged such an expensive possession drained all the energy out of Logan and struck him back to his senses. He set his trembling fist down and anchored himself up on the desk by his palms instead, elbows shaking from the effort. 

This was… this was useless. What had he done? Whatever he just did was not a solution to his conundrum. Everything that had transpired was just a large distraction, a fruitless effort, a major drawback, a waste of even more time. He so badly wanted to pick up the mess he littered throughout the room, but he couldn’t find it in him to even try. Huh, if he couldn’t even pick up the pieces of his room, what more did that say for the pieces of _him_ that were left?

He slid back down onto the chair with a disappointed sigh and allowed the unnerving silence that took over roll out bitterly on his tongue. A disappointed disappointment. What a grand way to describe his existence. 

As a child, Logan loved to experiment with fire, and he’d burn through an entire candle by lighting it up at both ends, watching as the wax dripped onto the pavement drop by drop. He never thought he could ever empathize with a _candle_. 

The logical solution would be to start all that he needed to do right now and get it over with; but how could you light a candle that has nothing left to burn?

The seething flames of anger, frustration, and desperation have long since disintegrated into dying embers and all it left behind was the lonely trail of waxy liquid that once belonged to such a burning vessel. Logan felt helpless as that liquid took the form of tears and slid down his cheek. He still felt the need to choke down his sobs, as if he were hiding them from anyone. If he believed in a god he would’ve prayed to Him right now that Janus or anyone of his friends never find him like this– muffling his cries with his head in his arms, cold and hungry, helpless and stressed, burnt out and lost. 

It was such a preposterous reason. He could’ve done fine with proper planning and management and, come to think of it, maybe the essay would’ve been accomplished by now if he just hadn’t allowed his feelings to get the better of him. Logan decided then that emotions were impractical, and this was the last time he was ever going to be consumed by them.

He wasn’t certain, not with the stream of notions breezing through the folds of his mind and the sounds of his own crying clogging up his ears, but he could’ve sworn he heard a few creaks and footsteps. He was never a believer in the supernatural, and as far as he was concerned, he was alone with nothing but the cyclone within him and the twister around him to keep him company.

But the bit of physical contact that came to rest on his back was unmistakably real, and his entire body ached at the speed he jolted up from his desk. 

He internally scoffed at his own buffoonery when he saw not just his roommate, but Virgil, Roman, Patton, and Remus huddled around him; their varying expressions highlighted by the cool blue emanating from his desktop. Logan stammered, or at least he thought he did, as he exchanged uncomfortable but worrisome glances with his friends, fully aware of how he must look like. 

It was such a cramped space, and Logan wondered why, when, and even _how_ they were here. More importantly, how hadn’t he even noticed?

“Janus, what–”

“Shh,” Janus calmly dislodged his hand from Logan’s shoulder, making both the stuffiness and the chill of the air more obvious than before. Logan watched in awkward silence and tear-blurred eyes as the others blindly handed something over to his roommate. He was given no opportunity to protest when Janus draped a blanket over him, and only then did Logan realize just how cold he actually was. “You were shivering.” 

“I– thank you, Janus, but–” Logan was cut off yet again by the betrayal of his own throat whose scratchiness prevented him from speaking any more than he could. The darkness of the room made it hard to make out who exactly it was that gave him a bottle of water just now, but the shine of the screen on the person’s frames told him it was Patton. 

“Sorry if we kinda caught ya off guard, Lo. Here, have this first.” Logan gratefully took the water and readily gulped it down. His breathing had finally evened out and the throbbing in his temples had softened to a negligible nuisance.

He watched as who he could only assume to be Roman looked around the small room in search for something and observed as his hand found something on the wall. “Hey, the screen lighting’s pretty dramatic and all, McGeek, but do you want me to turn on the lights or–”

“No! I mean, uh, no. It’s just… I, uh, prefer it this way. Besides, I don’t suppose my face will be painting that pretty of a picture if you do turn it on.” Roman made a face of disagreement at his statement which soon turned into a sound of acknowledgement as he pried his hand away from the switch. 

Logan was about to yet again attempt and ask their reasons for being in here, as this wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, but his efforts were once again cut off by Virgil slinking in from behind Remus and into the blue shine directly in front of Logan. The man lifted up Lo’s chin, turned it slightly left and right, and basically gave Logan the equivalent of a mother’s check-up, before breathing out a sigh of relief. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt? Physically at least?” 

Logan gave the tiniest laugh at that and pried Virgil’s hands away from his cheeks as gently as he could. “I’m fine, Virge. Thank you.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck and moved a bit to the side. “Aight. Cool. Just scared the shit out of me, that’s all.”

Logan used the opportunity to clean out his glasses with the blanket draped over him as he, yet again, tried to ask what was going on. He was distracted, however, by the various sounds of plastic, metal, and rubber coming from behind the group. He craned his neck to see what it was and out emerged Remus, carrying an armful of cluttered supplies with his lips pressed into a thin line from the effort. The others made way so he could drop it all onto the table in a not-so-gentle manner; a feat everyone else stared at him for. 

“What? It’s not like the stuff haven’t been through worse. You saw what Logan did to the poor things. They’re practically unbreakable by now.” Roman lightly punched Remus in the arm and Logan flushed from slight embarrassment as he recalled the “petty” behavior he displayed a while ago.

“You really didn’t have to, Remus, but thank you. Now, uh, I think I should apologize for what you all saw. That was very unbecoming of me and I realize now that that was _not_ how I should’ve gone about things and really, all that actually did was waste even more of my time and _shit_ I have so much more to do oh my go–”

“Logan, do you really think that was a waste of time?”

The blue light was harsh against Janus’s face, and the gleam accented not only the birthmark Logan had come to know every curve of, but also the shine in his eye, the furrow in his brow, the crease in his forehead, and the downturn of his lips.

“Janus, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but it really only is a matter of logistics. In fact, if I were ever to get to any desired outcome out of this, I think it would be best if I started right now–”

“When was the last time you ate?” 

Logan squinted his eyes at the group, identifying the one who asked to be Roman, though he wasn’t quite sure. 

“It was, uhm. If I’m not mistaken it was this morning–”

“Wrong. You left before I did. I didn’t see you eat. The last time was last night, and it was only because I shoved a plateful of microwavables on top of your homework.” That was Janus again, and if Logan looked hard enough he’d be able to see his tall figure leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

“Oh. Sorry. I guess I just lost track of time–”

“Lo, have you even slept?” Patton rubbed at his eyes as he said this, and Logan began to wonder whether he was keeping the rest of them from having their accustomed sleep. Perhaps he was being a bother to them once again.

Logan twisted the blanket in his hands as he marginally felt the shame creep up on him. “I, well, I… not last night, no.” Since when has it been difficult to maintain eye contact with anyone?

“Logan, man,” Virgil started as he peered through the strands of hair falling over his eyes, “you need a break.”

Logan pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he readied to voice out his protest, but Roman beat him to it once again.

“Lo, be honest with me. Is there anything you need to get done by tomorrow, and _only_ tomorrow, at all?”

“Oh, well, _no_ , but–”

“No ‘but’s’! Though butts are pretty damn great,” Remus began as he twirled a black pen in his fingers. “If Roman can sleep through an entire day of deadlines and call that self-care then why the hell can’t you?”

The unreadable look on Roman’s face after that comment made the conversation just a bit more bearable, he thought. While Logan registered the twins’ words, Janus shifted once more from where he was leaning by the door to move closer to Logan yet again, kneeling down to meet his level from where he was sat, eyes locked on him and him only.

“Logan, I know right now you feel like everything’s just not going how it’s supposed to, and that can be frustrating, I know. Thing is, you stubborn little bookworm, moments like these can and _will_ happen, and that’s alright.” Janus paused in the middle of his statement to lightly squeeze Logan’s knee, a reminder of the present, a reminder of their presence. “Even the brightest candles have to stop burning, even for just a moment, to save themselves; and if your way of doing that is by trashing the entire goddamn room then by all means, Logan. Go off.”

Logan laughed, then; a breathy little thing that also pricked at the corners of Janus’s and the others’ mouths. 

“Don’t ever think of this as a waste of time again. You hear me?”

Janus always did have a way with words, and Logan’s head seemed to move on its own accord as he nodded fondly at his roommate’s statement, feeling a bit teary-eyed as he did. The laptop finally went back to sleep after all those minutes of inactivity, and the group was once more launched into the foreign familiarity of the pitch-black darkness. None of them seemed to mind.

He wasn’t sure who exactly it was that uttered, “Alright, c’mere,” or who was the first person to tentatively bring Logan in for a hug, but someone started it, someone else added to it, and now they were all locked into a messy group embrace.

A sort of comfortable warmth started to bloom from within Logan’s chest, and for the first time in so long, it felt like the cyclone in his system had finally cleared up enough storm clouds to allow for the smallest hint of sun to peek through.

The tornado was still there, large and enraged as it circled around Logan with its violent swirls, but they were right. He had time and he had _them_. With his little unconventional family around, the twister didn’t seem so bad, and the amplified image of its teeth-grinding howls didn’t seem so terrifying anymore.

Which reminded him…

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever will be able to thank all of you enough for this but uhm… and take note I don’t actually mind ‘cause all of you being here is satisfactory, but what the hell were all five of you doing in our dorm anyway?”

Logan couldn’t see any of their expressions, but he could infer from the sudden stiffness of their forms as they pulled away from the embrace that perhaps the reason was a more pressing matter.

Logan raised an eyebrow as he heard slight shuffling, a couple of murmurs and whispers, and even a few whisper-shouts in the total darkness, before someone cleared his throat and spoke. 

“Uhm, Logan? I think there is still something you’re forgetting.”

“What?” 

Forgetting? What was he forgetting? Oh gosh, did he leave a textbook in the library? Did he have all his notes with him? All his pens? Did he _actually_ have a deadline tomorrow and just forgot? Was there something he should be doing at this very moment that he wasn’t–

A light.

There was the sound of a lighter click, then a small, warm, yellow light. He identified the origin as a candle poking out of a cupcake in Janus’s hands. The glow was smaller, softer than the brash blue of the screen a while ago, and its hue matched the golden palette of the moment. The gently dancing flame lit up not much, but it’s heat and everyone’s proximity illuminated them in such a way that it cast defined shadows and halos of light over all of them. Sharing such a little blaze among six trying souls– such a little blaze bringing about so much warmth. 

He made his confusion visible as Logan remained clueless even as the others looked on in utter disbelief.

Virgil let out a well-meaning sigh of exasperation and added an eye roll for emphasis. “I can’t believe you forgot your own birthday, nerd.”

Birthda– oh. November third. Oh. 

Logan continued to flit his gaze between them and the cupcake, still dumbfounded by the whole ordeal. “I can’t believe you actually remembered at all.”

“Please. Patton has everyone’s birthdays marked down on his calendar in true dad fashion– and even still, _of course_ we’d remember, Logan.”

The gesture certainly caught him off guard, and Logan could never have been prepared for the onslaught of emotions bubbling at the surface.

“Thank you,” he said, as he made no effort to wipe at the moisture in his eyes. Not a word more had to be spoken, as all that had needed and wanted to be uttered were contained in that single gesture, in that tiny flame.

Janus cleared his throat and handed the cupcake over to Logan, who tenderly cradled the gift in his palms. “I know how much you hate cheesy traditions but hey, the candle’s there anyway so… make a wish, Lo.”

Logan breathily chuckled through the single tear that fell from his eye, and he decided he was going to indulge in this simple pleasure just once. He closed his eyes, made a wish that more likely involved these five people more than himself, and blew the candle– effectively pulling them all back into the darkness of the night.

The candle was moved to a plate and lit up again, just to “keep the mood of things,” as the twins and Virgil worded it, and Logan was made to gobble down the stale cupcake to somehow tame the roar in his gut. They munched on instant ramen and biscuits later on, laughing, teasing, and sharing spooky stories under the single candlelight as they went. After, just ‘cause they couldn’t resist, they still got to work on a few of Logan’s and each other’s tasks; alternating between serious tones and light-hearted banter ‘till deep into the night.

The compulsive need to explain to them once again that celebrations were merely a construct of capitalism threatened to take over Logan several times, but even he had to admit that this was different. These were his friends, his _family_ , gathered in a limited space, illuminated by a single, dying candle, outright showing Logan that he was appreciated, relevant, worth it, and loved. No one had to say it. The mere fact that they’re here spoke it enough.

When the candle finally burnt out completely and the flame died out, they did not attempt to bring it back to life, nor did they move to switch on the lights. 

They rested.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing alright! Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. My Tumblr is [@nerdy-emo-royal-dad](https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com/)! Hope you're all doing alright today. Heed the sides' advice and give yourselves a break, okay? Stay safe, fams! <3


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